Once again, the world changes....
Today is the official start of Naked Season.
Let me begin with: I hate clothes.
I mean, I love clothes, clothes that are flattering, sexy, pretty...and especially that have very little in the way of actual fabric.
Wintertime in this region does not support Nearly Naked.
But it was November before I donned a pair of socks, and today, on the third day of March, I hereby renounce socks as a daily article of clothing. Except for extenuating circumstances, I am sock-free for the summer. I peel them off, and paint my toes the color of Spring.
I looked at my fading bikini lines the other day, hoping, hoping that I would be able to get new ones before the old ones are gone completely. If the weather holds, I will. Yesterday, I woke to find that sometime between midnight and morning, the heavens had opened to wash away the smutty scent of city dirt.
A dear friend with wise blue eyes has of late been describing me as "melancholy." I disagreed, but the joy I feel at the return of warm weather makes me reconsider. In comparison to the way I feel today, I've been downright depressive. It's disconcerting to have someone see me more clearly than I do, though perhaps not unusual.